The Bad Trip

I took a trip and landed on the ground.
My left knee and my elbow felt the pain.
I must have moved too fast – that’s how I found
myself on old concrete. I saw the stain
of blood on jacket sleeve, and knew the sting
of laceration. Still, I rode the train
and powered on. I’d tend to everything
in time – I had a journey to maintain.

Within an hour I had cleaned the wound,
applied a bandage, washed the jacket sleeve.
It wasn’t till the evening I near-swooned
with left wrist pain too potent to believe.
In half a day my wrist no longer screamed –
I guess that whack was sharper than it seemed…

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Laissez-(Un)faire

Laissez-faire describes my oldest friend.
She even brags about how lax she is –
not checking messages companions send;
forgetting set appointments, dropping in
(she knows they know she’s got the cash to spend);
misplacing but not learning from a loss.
She’s now annoyed a youngster won’t amend
that laid-back, so-what attitude of his…
Her blare’s too loud for her to comprehend.

(Magic 9)

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Noticing

The first job for intelligence, I thought,
is finding happiness. That’s what I want
from genius (and it’s also how I sought).
If not, you’re just an idiot savant.
Likewise, I’ve long expected artful minds
to notice what exists with every sense –
to be attentive to specific kinds
denotes creative bent with diligence.

But I was incorrect. Although it’s strange
encountering stupidity in smart,
and seeing careless permeating skill,
awake and reasoning don’t interchange,
full consciousness is not a form of art,
and mindful’s a deliberate state of will.

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Density

Until a day ago, my view was brick
outside my office shed. For 16 years
I looked at blocks and mortar inches thick
when typing at my keyboard. What appears
today is temporary, planks of wood,
for some landowner in the neighborhood
is tearing down to then build house and wall.
He says he won’t disturb my peace at all.

It’s now the season of the A.D.U.
At least two neighbors paid and have permits.
My boundaries are not invaded, true,
but I’ll be longing soon for noise respites.
It’s good that I approve of density
in housing, for that’s how it soon will be.

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Wordles

Designed to pick out patterns as I am,
and liking solitary anagram,
I’ve noticed some relationships in word,
which carried to deliberate are absurd –
like backward LIVE is EVIL and (what’s worse)
a GOD transmutes to DOG in its reverse.
That scrambled HEART is EARTH has no debater,
but now I note those letters forming HATER.

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If I Were a Virus

If I were a virus, I’d try to infect
as many hosts as can be found.
I’d cause victims sneezing and thereby expect
dispersal of particles. Bound
for another by blood, shit or snot,
I’d aim to diffuse with a strew.
Pretending I’m viral while knowing I’m not,
I get how to not infect you.

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Kinder Grad

Matriculation is a minor rite
when marking elevation to first grade.
Free choice, a film, and donuts were delight,
according to reports. The students played,
the teacher sat – all suitably “last-dayed.”
And though his folks expected he would grieve
at change, it wasn’t sadness he conveyed.
The pathos was his parents’, I believe.

(Huitain)

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Inner Healing

I wonder sometimes if I can exert
an influence on how my insides mend.
It doesn’t seem outlandish to assert
(or theorize, at least) that to intend
sincerely can’t do ill, to heal a hurt.
I pilot vigor and attempt to send
good where I need it currently within:
extremities and under spots of skin.

(Ottava Rima)

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Dogwood

Asserting dogwoods don’t grow locally
(he said they need a winter freeze to bloom),
I countered with how many I can see
around my neighborhood. I don’t presume
to knowledge (though my cranium has room
for more, I’ll never be a botanist),
but now my walks abut a petal boom
of blossoms too abundant to be missed.

(Huitain)

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The Mien

A mien recalls someone I used to know
who shared my bus and talked incessantly.
It isn’t she, but likeness triggers flow
of shuttered stuttered dormant memory.
I found her boring then and didn’t see
a reason to befriend her, view her place
or show her mine. The idea striking me
is how completely I forgot her face.

(Huitain)

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